A Very 'Haunted' Honeymoon
by GemmaLisax
Summary: Peter and Shelby Whitlock, newlywed's, horror lovers, and fans of ghost investigations. What trouble can they get upto on their honeymoon? RP characters: @TexAssPete and @PiercedPaws feel free to follow if you enjoy the crazy. Vamp/Werewolf shenanigans. AU/Non-Canon. Possibly more to come...


**A/N: This isn't an update to existing stories, I know, but it's a little something from my RP world. A birthday present for one of my best friends, and RP mate, and we decided to post it here. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Shelby! Again. LOL This has only been beta'd by me...so y'all will have to excuse any mistakes.**

 **As usual...I own nothing, just like playing in this world.**

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Shelby has been organising the trunk for the past ten minutes. Normally I'd be bothered that my organisation hadn't been good enough…but considering I'd fucked it up on purpose, I'm just left standing with a smug smile on my face while I stare at my wife's ass. What a delectable ass it is. No one can blame a guy for manipulating this situation, right?

"You know I know what you're doing, right, baby?" She calls me out, but I can hear the smile in her voice.

"Shhh, Darlin', I'm enjoyin' the view," I answer, still staring at her ass as she moves back and forth, side to side…it's hypnotic.

Oh, the plans I have for that ass.

Then she wiggles it for me.

I'm behind her in the next moment, my hands on her hips, my crotch nestled against her denim covered ass. Out in public, right outside our house or not, I'm real tempted to peel her jeans down and take her right here and now.

"Temptin' me, baby girl?" I murmur, snaking an arm around to rest over the waist band of her jeans, one finger dipping lower. I can feel her heat.

"Always," she groans, and that edge to her voice that always makes me want to make her scream my name and beg for more.

I cup her throat, so very delicate in my large hand, her pulse thrums against my thumb as I caress her pulse point. I kiss just behind her ear and feel it quicken.

"We're already late settin' off, baby girl," I croon, my voice soft. Low. "Tastin' your sweet pussy for breakfast put us behind schedule."

She groans and I smile against her skin. Her temperature rises in response to each word, her hips swaying, grinding back against me. My bitch in heat. But we both know that if we keep giving into temptation then we'll never make it on our honeymoon.

And I have plans. Oh, so many plans.

"What do good girls get when they're bad?" I ask, my lips never fully leaving her sensitised skin. My question is rhetorical, and so I don't wait for an answer, "Temptin' me with that fine ass of yours, rubbin' it against my cock…mmm, Darlin', can you feel how hard you've made me?"

"Yes," she answers and I can't help the smile at her breathy voice. So wanton. So full of need.

"I can smell how wet you are," I whisper, sliding my hand between denim and skin, journeying down to press against her slick flesh, "Fuck, Wife, you're soaked." I groan, sliding one finger inside her, "So naughty, my dirty wife, lettin' me finger your tight pussy in public."

The sound she makes then is one that I love. Somewhere between a keen and a moan, all throaty and high pitched at the same time, and so full of need. Her legs are shaking already and I know, I just _know_ , that it would take all of a minute to have her careening over the edge for the fall that she so desperately craves.

It really is like playing an instrument. The right strums hit the right chords, and my woman's signing a merry turn of carnal want and desire. Those sounds, all of them, they're something that I crave. Something that I strive for, be it with fingers, tongue, or my cock…it's those noises that let me know I'm doing something right.

"That's it, baby girl, sing those moans for me," I strum her clit over and over, two fingers inside her now, rubbing that spot that'll have her in need of yet another change of panties.

"Please…please, baby, I…I _need_ …"

Oh, I know what she needs, and being the loving husband that I am, I'll be giving it to her. Anyone passing by would see that we're in an intimate embrace, though they can't really _see_ anything, not the way I'm angled against her. Protecting her. Not that she knows that, or cares if anyone can see her, not right now.

I kiss my way down her throat, my hand tightens around it in just the way she likes, and I tilt her head to give me ready access. Her pulse thunders in my ears, her breathing ragged, her body strung tight. I lick over her skin, over the mark I gave her on our wedding night, and I have to hold her up fully against the car. Her noises are desperate and past words. But she can't fall yet, not until she feels my bite.

" _Please_ ," she cries out and I don't leave her waiting any longer.

She tightens around my fingers as soon as the pain of my bite hits her in blissful torture. I feel the gush of her fluids as her tight sex contracts around my fingers, rippling over my digits. My name on her lips.

I literally drink down her orgasm; and it tastes so…fucking…sweet.

oOo

"It's so your fault that we've ended up late."

I laugh, mostly cause she's right. After I'd made her scream herself hoarse outside the house, I'd barely remembered to close and lock the truck up before running back into the house, my wife in my arms. I'd been inside her and…well, we'd set off even later than we had been.

"You weren't exactly complainin'," I point out, seeing her bright smile when I glance over as I drive us towards the airport, "If you keep makin' me think about it we'll be even later."

"Do we have time?"

She looked so hopeful. Those big eyes, always dragging me in, and when they flash gold? Whoa mama, it's so fucking sexy. It was the reasoning behind the yellow diamond on her finger, and the gold paw print on my platinum wedding band. For those times when her wolf peeks through human eyes and I get a glimpse of the animal within. When she's losing control and giving into primal urges. Feral. I fucking love it.

"As soon as we're on the jet and in the air, I'll keep your juices flowin' the whole way. I'm starvin' for a taste of you."

The smirk I wear as she moans, shifting about in her seat, is one of a dark promise she knows I'll be fulfilling.

oOo

"I still can't believe that Sam gave us our very own private jet as a wedding gift!"

I sit back and watch her. She's so excited. So happy. Her smile is wide and gleeful as she explores our plane and I relax against the sofas as we fly across the ocean.

"C'mere, baby girl," I order, though my voice is quiet and calm. She knows what I want and I love her all the more for it. Even more so at the fact that she needs it too.

She comes to me slowly, dropping to hands and knees as she nears, crawling the rest of the way. we're both fully clothed still, though she won't be for much longer, and I can see the anticipation burning in her gaze. Her eyes become heavy lidded, her pupils expand, and the heady scent of her arousal begins to colour the air with her need.

"Take my cock out," I order, my voice the same. I watch as she obeys, her hands flicking open the button fly of my jeans, reaching in to wrap her fingers around my heavy length. I'm already hard. "Who do you belong to, princess?"

"My vampire, my Master," she answers without preamble, her breath ghosting over the head of my dick.

"Good girl," and God do I love what those two words do to her. That hitch in her breath, the tensing, and the full body shiver that follows. "Show your Master how much you love his cock," I run my fingers through her hair as she starts to worship me.

Her mouth his hot against the cold of my skin. Fire and ice, vampire and wolf, opposites in the supernatural world. We fit together perfectly.

Her tongue languishes over the swollen mushroom head, drawing out that first bead of precum, and humming appreciatively as she tastes me. Her hands are on me, stroking me, cupping my balls. Massaging. I groan, my eyes closing for just a moment as I feel the unbelievable pleasure of having my woman's mouth work me. I spread my legs, shifting enough to push down my jeans further, knowing that she likes to have full access. I have absolutely no problem with that.

As her mouth travels lower, taking me in further, my stroking hand stops and grips her hair instead. Though I don't push or guide her. Not yet. I allow her to keep her own pace. For now. Full lips, warm mouth, and teasing teeth…she takes me in fully, swallowing around me, gagging for the second before she has me fully down her throat.

Oh, what a fucking feeling that is.

"That's it, baby girl, so fuckin' good," I moan, praising her, loving the answering moan that vibrates around and over my cock.

She draws up, her cheeks hollowed out, tasting me all over again. She looks up at me as she draws me fully out of her mouth, her eyes intent on mine as she licks over my head again.

"Am I doing good, Master?" she asks, even though she knows full well that she is. It's all part of the game we like to play.

"I think you can do better, princess. Open for me."

She does as she's told and I'm back inside her mouth again. This time my grip in her hair moves her, puppets her, drives her down as I fuck up against her. Fucking that tight throat, drawing pleasure from her strangled moans, breathing in deep of her sexualised scent. Fuck, she smells good. She feels good.

 _Holy shit_.

But I don't plan on emptying down her throat.

Pulling on her hair, I pull her off me, and soon have her in my arms. In my lap. I rip at her jeans, I can buy her more, I just need to feel her against me. I need to hear those moans and pleading and desperate cries as she feels the burn of ripped fabric against her skin. She fucking loves it. My little cock hungry puppet pain slut.

I lift her easily, positioning her over my cock, hard and insistent against her opening. And she's going down, enveloping me in tight, hot, saturated sex. Her pussy swallowing me as her throat had done, a perfectly snug fit, just as if she was made for me. She was.

My soul mate, my forever, the woman that I somehow missed during our first meeting. Our second? Zombie Garden Gnomes, paintballing, and high jinks. If I hadn't have turned into an awkward prat at the shock of realising what she is to me I'd have had her over the back of my truck that first night.

But, now is certainly not the time for stewing over the past, not when I have the most beautiful woman in the world bouncing her gorgeous self on my cock. So deep…so tight. I growl, thrusting up, fucking her. Owning her. Relishing in the utter brilliance of those gold eyes as they fasten on me. My hand is over her throat again, tight enough for her excitement to build, to leave her wanting more. Knowing that she loves it when I press down, tighten my grip, when I steal the air from her for those precious moments just before she takes off into blissful nirvana.

"I want to see you come, princess. I want you gushing all over my big cock. Make me feel every spasm of your needy cunt."

There's that special moan again. I can feel it under my hand as it was forced out of her throat.

"Yes…yes, Master, I fucking love your cock. I want…I need…please, Master!"

So soon after we became one her body learnt not to come without my bite. She craves it. That pleasure pain, that branding of ownership, that knowing that she's all mine. That I'll never leave her. That I'm her's just as much.

"So needy, princess," I groan, taking her mouth in a bruising kiss, my lips travel over her jawline as her movements become frenzied, "I'm goin' to bite you now, baby girl. I'm goin' to sink my teeth into that pretty little neck of yours and drink down your pleasure. Your blood tastes so fuckin' sweet when you're comin' for me as your life's blood flows down my throat. My little bitch in heat, my wife. Come. Now."

And I strike. She's stronger than a human, and a whole lot more resilient, but her skin still parts like a knife through butter when my teeth break through. She shudders, spasms, gushes all over me. I can feel her squirt, the fluid evidence of her orgasms being forced out around my cock, that hard little nubbin of her clit vibrating hard against my pelvic bone. My name a strangled cry on her lips.

Beyond beauty.

I lick over the wound as she falls against me, all sated muscles, and blissed out aftershocks. I reward her with a kiss.

"You're so beautiful when you fall apart for me," I croon, kissing her, stroking my fingers through her hair as she basks against me, "So responsive, my good girl."

I'd promised her bountiful play, and I give it to her. The whole flight to the UK is taken with me taking her. When we disembark from the plane she walks with my arm around her waist, and her legs that little bit more apart than usual. Me? I'm the smug mother fucker walking next to her.

oOo

"Peter?" she whispers, her mouth close to my ear, and all kinds of distracting.

"Yeah, Darlin'?" I ask, wondering how likely it is that I'll be able to get away with bending her over the balcony and _not_ being caught on camera.

"Why are we hiding in the dark instead of joining the investigation group?"

I smile, cause this is where things get fun, and my mind its back on track.

"Cause we're gonna make sure that they've got somethin' to write home about by the end of this."

"You mean…?"

"Yup, baby girl, tonight we are the ghosts of Chillingham Castle. Awesome name, huh?"

oOo

 **Meanwhile backstage at the 'Haunted?' Chillingham Castle live show…**

The setup had all gone as planned, which was a miracle with these things, but I was sure that something would go wrong. I just had one of my 'feelings', and my 'feelings' are never wrong. Everyone says so. Being the lead presenter of the UK's most popular ghost investigation show, those 'feelings' always came in handy. Tonight would be our second investigation at Chillingham and I was really hoping that something would actually happen this time. It's tiring pretending to hear things or get pushed.

"Lottie, we're good to go in ten!" one of the nameless people called to me from somewhere.

One last check in the mirror and I donned the obligatory cold weather coat, schooled my face so that I actually look like I'm serious about what I'm doing, and leave my cosy RV to join the rest of the cast. Er…I mean, investigators.

"We're going to get something rather special tonight, I'm sure of it, Lottie," our resident Medium announced as I joined them.

He's always so enthusiastic. Last week he was possessed by a bear…it should be said that I don't take much stock in anything he says.

"Oh, I'm sure of it, Michael," I smile towards him and head towards the cameras for the intro.

"Tonight we're investigating the ghostly goings on at Chillingham Castle. This Medieval fortress is nestled in the beautiful Northumberland countryside, and has been terrorising its inhabitants and guests alike, since the 12th century."

More basic information and over exaggerating everything later…

Michael, two of the overenthusiastic 'investigators', and I had come to the bedroom reported to hold the 'Blue Boy'. A ghost of a child. Rather depressing, if you ask me, but the public eat things like this up. The more macabre and tragic the better, and this place has plenty of history, including eight gruesome executions. All the cameras and listening devices had been set up earlier so that we can all wander about in the dark and not see anything; including where we are going.

"What's that?" Deb, one of the investigators, whispered.

We all dutifully froze to listen. I hadn't heard anything, so it's likely some kind o-

A loud moan sounded out, sounding as if it were coming from everywhere, or maybe within the walls. It didn't really sound like a child though.

"Oh my God," it was my turn to whisper, only mine edged more along the lines of a shriek.

"Is there someone here that wants to talk with us?" Michael asks, and I didn't need to be looking through my night vision camera to see the excitement on his face.

He was answered by something that sounded like a wail…and a growl?

"Are there any animal ghosts reported here?" I asked, unthinkingly. I'm supposed to know everything about this place.

"No. No werewolf legends either," Sean answered, the second investigator, as he panned his camera around the room.

"Why would you mention werewolves?" I ask, what on earth is he talking about? Where do we dredge these people up from?

Another moan…followed by a slap…and a…scream? Was that another growl?

"Talk to us, spirits, give us a sign that you are willing and able to communicate!" Michael called out, arms out stretched.

" _YES!"_

We all froze…and the two investigators promptly tried to leg it out of the room.

"Where the bloody hell do you think you two are going?" I ask, incensed, but not surprised. They always did this. The slightest thing and…waaaaaaaaah all the way home, "Get back in there."

"Are you aware of us here, spirit?"

" _FUCK, YES! OH GOD….YES…YES!"_

Eyebrows in my hair. "Well…I think a simple 'yes' would've done, thank you," I point out, and then a little louder, "If you could please keep your language suitable for kids, that would be wonderful."

Some indistinguishable words, moans, groans, and more slapping…and then…

" _FUCKIN' TAKE IT! TAKE ALL OF IT. Such a good little bit…"_

It trailed off again and I missed that last part. Bad language aside, this is TV gold! I can already see the awards on my mantle. What did it matter if the words didn't really make any sense?

A screamed rattled through the room. Literally. Ornaments, books, glasses…all shook with the force of the scream. What in the nine levels of hell have we awakened?!

"Maybe we should go back now," Michael, no longer looking enthusiastic, in fact he looks like he wants to be anywhere but here.

"Now? Are you crazy?" I ask him, covering my mic, "This is gold! Keep asking questions."

He didn't look particularly happy, but I pay his wages sooo….

"Give us a sign that-"

" _I can't get enough of your blood…my wife…"_

My wide eyes connected with Michael's wide eyes, and then Debora's and Sean's…wide eyes all around.

"Vampire?!" I whisper, bouncing up and down on the balls of my feet, "Or is this like an Elizabeth Bathory thing?"

"You think we're hearing a ghost bathing in the blood of virgins?" Sean asked, looking at me like he thought I'd boarded the crazy train. "Cause it really doesn't sound like they're…in pain. You know?"

Whatever.

"The vampire of Chillington Castle," I speak to myself, "Discovered in 2015…the ghost of…" I wave my hand about, "Whichever Knight….and that's why they chopped his head off! After the hanging and drawing and quartering didn't work. Ha! Do you know what this means?!"

" _PLEASE! PLEASE! RIP ME OPEN WI…"_

Again it trails off before finishing the sentence.

"Where is it coming from?"

"What? Why?! We need to _leave_ …whoever the hell it is that died here just begged to be ripped open! _Ripped o-pen!_ " Sean points out, rather obviously.

"Oh, whatever, it's just a psychic imprint.'" I waved him off, walking around the room with my ear to the walls.

"It feels more….vital than that," Michael points out, "I don't think it's simply an imprint, but an active spirit." Another moan, this one long and drawn out, came as if to prove his point, "Very active. If we can get them to appear to us then we'll-"

He broke off as a loud bang, followed by a kind of crunchy crash, interrupted him. We all stared at each other again. Even I was beginning to wonder if it wasn't past time for us to make our exits. But…oh, the possibilities!

"Are we sure there's no one else around here?" I ask, looking around the room through the different filters on the camera, jumping when another growl sounded out, and this one louder…and almost closer?

"There's supposed to be hidden passages all over this house," Sean piped up. When I turned towards him I saw he was on his phone, likely searching Google, "There's supposed to be one in here somewhere…but it doesn't say where."

"Well, that's useful." I grouch, suddenly very interested in finding hidden seams in the walls, and hoping that nobody points out that I should've known that already.

We all set about the room, pulling on books, trying to twist things, looking behind pictures. Basically every clichéd secret door opening whatsit ever was attempted. Nothing.

" _YES! Bathe in my blood…drink it down…oh Master…."_

"Oh, bloody hell," I froze, my voice shaking.

The noise we had just heard was so very eerie, and the words had been really rather distinctive. The voice was strangled almost.

"Have you ever encountered something so distinct?" I asked Michael, who was busy communing with his spirit guide.

"Trevor is telling me that we need to leave. That we're in great danger," Michael's voice shook, "We need to leave. Now."

Sean and Deborah were all for that idea. I wasn't.

"Hang on! We need to find the source of this, do you have any idea what this will do for my rati…I mean, the paranormal world? Actual proof, undeniable. It's not like they can actua-"

I was interrupted by what could only be described as a roar. So loud the windows rattled and we all flinched, covering our ears. It went on for at least a minute, maybe two, before echoing off into a silence so profound I wondered if I'd become deaf.

"So…we leaving now?" Deborah asked.

No one answered…we just legged it.

oOo

 **Back to Peter…**

Holding my woman in my arms is one of my favourite things to do after my favourite thing to do. Feeling her all shaky and jellified at once never fails to boost my ego. Also, if I'm going to be absolutely honest, warms my long silent heart. Her smile is one of total satisfaction as she nuzzles against my chest, purring quietly as I stroke my fingers through her long, thick hair. I kiss her head, her temple, anywhere I can bend to reach, unable to not do it. It's always like that whenever she's near.

"That was amazing, baby," she murmurs, "I fucking love you, Pire Mine."

I smile. Wide.

"I fuckin' love you too, Wolf Mine." I purr back, breathing in her scent, and ours combined as we enjoy our post naughty nekkid time cuddle, "Sorry for gettin' distracted."

"Oh, you sooooo do not need to apologise, cowboy," she rests her chin on my chest so as to look at me, "So…we gonna go mess with the investigators now?"

The chiming on an incoming message interrupts us before I can answer. It takes me a second to understand it, and less than that to start laughing my ass off.

"What is it?" Shelby asks, taking the phone from me, and busting a gut herself after reading it, "Looks like we already did!"

 _ **Message: Funny thing just happened. We're all watching the 'Haunted?' at Chillingham Castle, wondering if we'd get to see you two. You know it's a live show, right? Kudos on managing to combine fucking with the peeps and fucking your woman.**_

 **oOoTheEndoOo**

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 **E/N: if you liked, let me know! Thanks!**


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